Limping in Daylight

Genesis 32:22-31

St. Andrews Scots Memorial Church

October 20,2013

It is harvest season here in Palestine. The pomegranates are as big as grapefruits and the grapefruits are as big as small basketballs. And the olive harvest has begun. Everywhere you go, small groups of people are on ladders shaking and pulling olives---green and dark purple fruits onto worn tarps or blankets. The season began early according to some because of the coolish weather a few weeks ago and now it is time to harvest them, turn them into precious oil.

in front of 4,000 year old olive tree

Yesterday I had the pleasure of joining a group of internationals, mostly Italians, and Palestinians in the ancient city of Al Walaja to harvest olives for Abu Omar and his family. I have been missing the autumn colors of New England, apple picking, cider and donuts. I needed to do something to deal with this very physical and spiritual angst so I found a place that needed an extra set of hands for the harvest and a protective presence if necessary.

Noah up a tree

We worked for a few hours and then ate falafel sandwiches and coke, then a few more hours pulling the olives from the branches, gathering them into small piles, then filling buckets with these green and purple jewels. The Palestinian men sang and checked their phones for messages while we internationals talked softly between the thuds of olives on our heads. There was the occasional sound of shared laughter or language but mostly the quiet of shared work and joy.

     

Abu Omar sat in his grey sweatpants on his grey chair looking on approvingly. He has heart problems I heard from all the stress---the bombs thrown at his house by the settlers, the over 16 arrests, his land and now home about to be completely walled in.

Picking olives from the trees near his home seems insignificant given the gravity of the situation but this was what we could do and as the mystic Sufi poet Rumi says, “There are a hundred ways to kneel and kiss the ground” and this is one of them. This was one way we could be of use, serve others, serve a justice seeking God. We could help this family persevere, remain on their ancestral land. We could add our steadfastness to his steadfastness, samoud, and thus, multiply hope.

always the view with settlements in the distance

So friends, I have a confession. I’ve already been to church, had a taste of what it means to commune with others and share the broken bread of suffering and redemption under the sacred light of whispering olives. The Sabbath was indeed holy.  Yet this holiness, this blessing doesn’t come without a price, a wee bit of pain now in my lower back, an aching that is at once new and familiar. You see I have fibromyalgia, a muscle skeletal disorder. I am one long acquainted with physical pain and suffering and like Jacob I have wrestled with God in the dark and the light with this pain for years. I don’t have a limp per se but I do have a tendency to fatigue. Yet like Jacob I have struggled too to get the blessing that can only be born out of the wrestling. I have experienced the “magnificent defeat” as Fredrick Buechner calls it, the defeat of the illusion that one is in control or that you can live without confronting-----confronting of the shadow self or the “other”, the angel, or even God for God can be our adversary and our advocate.

I too have wrestled with my ego limitations, have had my proverbial hip dislocated, in my case my neck and forearm. What kind of scars or wounds do you have from your struggles in the night? Are they visible to others? Invisible but just as real?

We mortals cannot defeat or outlast God but we can be persistent in our relationship and hang on. Hanging onto the holy is how we come to experience new life, is it not church? The essence of our struggle is neither endurance nor denial. The essence is to become new, to change. This is what happened to Jacob and what can happen to us if we persist.

This is what happened to Rabbi Brant Rosen from the metropolitan Chicago area a few years ago when he decided to write about his feelings of rage and anguish over the 2008 military assault on Gaza called Cast Lead. He wrote a blog post that said:

Outrage in Gaza: No More Apologies

What Israel has been doing to the people of Gaza is an outrage. It has brought neither safety nor security to the people of Israel and it has wrought them nothing but misery and tragedy upon the people of Gaza.

There, I’ve said it. Now what do I do?

Rabbi Rosen wrestled like Jacob with his conscience and his God in daylight and in public by posting this message on his blog. His post went viral and he heard from all kinds of people including those in his congregation who did not share his views. He wrestled with how to serve a justice seeking God who stands with the oppressed no matter who they are. He joined a community of conscience and widened the limits of public discourse in the Jewish community. He has been wounded and targeted by many for speaking out but he has also received the blessing of new life.

Our gospel story this morning about the widow who won’t give up is also about persistence too. The widow, “the silent one” speaks boldly over and over for justice until she is heard until she remembers who she is, what the real shape of her life and heart are. This is why this is a parable about prayer. Prayer is more than a ritual we do daily like brushing our teeth. It is a persistent cry to be heard until we wear ourselves out rattling on the gates demanding to be heard. It’s not about winning through perseverance but about prayer as an unceasing continual act. “It’s not perfection that leads to God but perseverance” says Sister Joan Chittister.

So whether you identify more with Jacob and his wrestling, his wounds or scars, or the ever-persistent widow demanding justice from an unjust judge, embrace the struggle today. Do not be afraid. You are not alone in dark and you are not alone in the light. Your scars make you beautiful. Your wounds show your strength. Your rage shows your humanity, keeps you human.

We are touched and blessed and given mouths to speak and ears to hear. We have been given commandments to follow and a brother and teacher who demand us to follow his sacred way.

Let me end this morning then with this prayer by Rev. Robert Raines:

You have touched us; O Lord, and it hurts…

You have blessed us; O Lord, and it heals…

As you have given us courage to struggle in the dark alone

Give us courage now to go limping in the daylight together.